Private Dancer
by Missy Holland
Summary: She doesn't look at their faces, she keeps her eyes on the wall xxxxxx Just some Catherine musings.


**A/****N**: Came up with this while I was going crazy sitting in the car for 11 hours. Wrote it as soon as I got out of the car, waited a few months, changed some stuff in that time, and now I'll finally post it. It's about Catherine. Nothing more, nothing less. Just my usual song fic ;) Songs are 'Private Dancer' by Tina Turner, and 'Only Lonely' by Hootie and the Blowfish. There's almost more song than story, but I thought this really fit. Enjoy!

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_Well the men come in these places_

_And the me__n are all the same_

_You don't look at their faces_

_And you don't ask their names_

Her hips sway to the beat. Curves are lit in the delicate red light. Hair is hanging loosely on her shoulders, caressing the small freckles on her soft skin. A soft layer of sweat is forming; after all, she's been doing this for the past few hours.

Her eyes are set on a far horizon while she dances. Takes her mind off of all those men.

_You don't think of them as human_

_You don't think of them at all_

_You keep your mind on the money_

_Keeping your eyes on the wall_

Indeed she does, as her hands swiftly remove another piece of clothing. Her eyes are focussed on a crack in the wall, trying to erase the men she's dancing for. Her fluid motions are practised, it's not real. Fake appearances are what's important here. She pretends. Fakes her smile when men reach for her and put dollars in her panties. The lines are used, but with a fake smile she does her private dance.

"_I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money_

_I'll do what you want me to do"_

"_I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money_

_And any old music will do"_

Corny music, loud music, she's danced on all music. Sometimes people want her to go off stage when she's doing her private performances. She'll crawl down the stage, eyes shining and she'll give them a lap-dance. She'll feel them, the heat of her own body mingling with theirs. She'll grind and rotate on the chair, making them shift in their places. She'll take her bra off and she'll do some wicked dancing. But in her eyes is a foreign look. If they look in her eyes they'll see dreams that could be.

_I wanna make a million dollars_

_I wanna live out by the sea_

_Have a husband and some children_

_Yeah I guess I want a family_

_All the men come in these places_

_And the men are all the same_

_You don't look at their faces_

_And you don't ask their names_

And when she's done she'll go home. Where her little daughter is. She'll kiss and hug her, have some diner, and then she'll go study. She wants to live out by the sea, in a nice cottage. But when she's done studying, she'll go to bed and the day will begin once again. She gets up, feeds her daughter, studies some more and then she'll go out again.

"_I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money_

_I'll do what you want me to do"_

"_I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money_

_And any old music will do"_

Night in, night out. It's the same old story. She dances, but someday she'll get out. Get away from the business, take her daughter somewhere safe.

It's the same old nightmare.

One day it might change, that's what she often dreams about.

She'll be dancing, just like she always does, when a stranger comes in and sits down. She can't make out if it's a man or a woman; she just knows that it's something this person doesn't usually do.

Because that person will have a life that's so far above hers, that she can only dream of having.

And that person will smile, a shy smile, because all she'll see are the dimmed sparkles of teeth and eyes. She'll come down the stage, paying only attention to the really needy men. She'll avoid all extra contact as she approaches the newbie.

It's a woman, that's what she'll see. And the woman smiles some more as the look in her eyes comes alive.

She'll dance sincerely this time, because she'll want the stranger to have a good time, like she used to have when she just started working here.

For the first time in ages a genuine smile forms on her face as she sees the stranger blush. She crawls closer, seeing the stranger's breath hitch. She walks around the chair, and bending over backwards, she stretches herself out so her head is on the breasts of the strange new woman. Swiftly she turns back and is on the lap of the woman. She closes her eyes as she dances. She'll fall forever if she opens her eyes now.

She straddles the woman, leaving almost nothing to the imagination as she loses her top. It's cheap, and it's working. The stranger is touching her sides now, moving slowly up and down. She feels treasured for the first time since long.

She won't be surprised when the stranger is waiting for her after her shift is over. It's been the third time this week.

The stranger won't be stranger anymore as well. By this time she'll know her name, what her favourite ice-cream is and how she likes to have sex with her.

When she's imaging those days, the face often is a blur, but as time passes, she finds herself getting closer and closer to revealing the truth.

Weeks go by, months go by.

Rescue comes, but not as a strange dark-haired woman. It comes in the form of a man with grey hair, a man whose behaviour is slightly odd, but also very comforting.

Unlike her fantasy she's not whisked away this time. He does wait for her after shift, he does take care of her daughter, but sparks ain't flying.

With his help she's finally able to shake off the dancing. She'll never be a private dancer again. She doesn't mind, she's got a decent job now.

But she's still waiting for that strange lady to come and get her. But she has to wait many years before that day comes.

As years pass she starts to forget about her dream. She moves up the ladder faster than she'd imagined. She's respected, sometimes feared, sometimes loved. Her body still gets her far, but for once her brain is more important.

At night though, she's still lonely. Few have shared her bed. And sometimes when she's feeling alone and lonely, the dream surfaces again. It's not exactly the same dream, but she's still saved from something every single time.

Mostly loneliness.

_Oh, I spent my night_

_Imagining your face, your touch_

_Then I realize how I don't even know your name_

_If we could share our time, would I disappoint your fantasies_

_But I believe that you could be the one I'm needing _

'_cause I'm _

_Only lonely on the inside, _

_You didn't mean to be my dream_

_Only lonely on the inside_

_When I close my eyes to my deepest thoughts_

Yeah, even woman came along, even brunettes. But they weren't the one that she needed.

She couldn't fight with them, couldn't feel that chemistry of working together so well.

_I could start to give apologies_

_For all the stupid thing that I will say and I will do_

_If we should ever cross the same place at the same time_

_Would your world skip a beat 'cause it was me?_

_If we could share our life, would I disappoint your memories?_

_I believe that you could be the one I'm needing,_

_And I'm_

_Only lonely on the inside_

_You didn't mean to be my dream_

_Only lonely on the inside_

_When I close my eyes to my deepest thoughts_

And the she was indeed saved.

After 10 years the woman she was hoping for came walking into her life. Confident, friendly, and she pushed her away.

She acted bitchy, she was so shocked, and scared. All of a sudden the girl she'd been dreaming of burst into her life, even better than she'd thought.

_If I could give back your hopes__, your joys, your treasures, don't you think that I would change my world?_

That's what she said, but only 3 years later. When she'd finally found the courage to tell her.

Beer sure did help, for both of them. Dreamgirl had been dumped, had been cheated on. She'd just been fucking nervous.


End file.
